


Feathers and Memories

by AllThoseOtherWorlds



Series: Caged Grace [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Sam Winchester, Gen, M/M, Post-Cage, Wingfic, angel!Sam, slightly fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThoseOtherWorlds/pseuds/AllThoseOtherWorlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their first day back in the game, Sam, Dean, and Castiel settle into a motel room for the night. Dean gets hit (mostly accidentally) in the face, and Sam and Cas talk about our favourite pair of archangels. Mostly wingfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers and Memories

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the first piece in this series, the important part is that Michael and Lucifer decided to talk and lecture Sam in the cage rather than torturing him, because it seemed more entertaining. Their Graces had an influence on Sam's soul, essentially turning him into an angel, which is why he has wings. He had issues with remembering pre-Cage stuff at first, but he's getting better now. The leviathans were sent back to purgatory the first time they tried, and Cas is travelling with the Winchesters. For the full run-down, I recommend reading the original piece.
> 
> As before, anything in bold is spoken in Enochian.
> 
> Thanks to Tangelene for beta-reading this.

                “Well, this is our room.” Dean opened the shabby motel’s door and threw his bag down on one of the beds. After some consideration, they’d decided that the additional space of a double room made it worthwhile, despite the fact that only Dean really needed a bed.

                Sam and Cas followed behind him, placing their things on the other bed. As soon as his laptop bag had been carefully deposited, Sam rolled his shoulders and sighed in relief as his wings manifested. Unfortunately, neither of them had properly judged the space in the room or the size of Sam’s wings, and Dean ended up with a face full of feathers.

                “Hey!” he yelped, scrambling to the other side of the room. “Watch where you put those things, huh?” He was glad Sam didn’t have to deal with the discomfort of hiding them while they were in the motel room, but _really._

                “Sorry,” Sam said, looking a little sheepish. “I should have checked.” He stretched his wings out once, then pulled them in closer to his body, giving Dean back his side of the room.

                They’d arrived in town around lunchtime, and had started to look into the unusual deaths Bobby had pointed out to them. At the moment, all they knew for sure was that it wasn’t demonic omens, and it probably wasn’t ghosts. That left some sort of monster, or witches. Dean was really hoping it wasn’t a witch – the worst a monster could do was scratch him up, but curses could be nasty.

                Now, though, it was getting late, and none of them really felt like discussing the case anymore. With that in mind, along with a healthy dose of ‘If I Don’t Say It, It Won’t Happen’, Dean decided not to mention the possibility of a witch, and instead broke the silence with “So, Sammy, did ya miss these craphole motel rooms at all while you were playing school with Lucifer and co?”

                As the words left his mouth it occurred to him that Sam might not appreciate mentions of his time in the Cage, but his brother seemed to take the comment in stride, smiling as he answered. “I am fairly certain the Cage was at least _cleaner_ than this room.”

                Castiel looked mildly confused. “The Cage exists primarily on a non-corporeal plane, where physical matter is suspended in between dimensions. I do not believe that traditional standards of cleanliness apply.”

                Dean made a noise that landed somewhere between a groan, a yawn, and a chuckle. “It’s a joke, Cas.” He flopped back on the bed, then pushed himself half-upright and frowned as he pulled a feather out from under himself. “Hey, Sammy. Do all angels shed this much, or is it just you?” He put the violet, silver, and red feather on the nightstand before ducking the pillow his brother had chucked at him.

                “Screw you, jerk. _You_ are not the one who had to hide these things all day. I thought my back would never stop itching.” Sam flared his wings out for emphasis, although he was considerate enough to avoid smacking Dean on the head again. “Actually,” he admitted, “I think I need to groom them more often when I keep them hidden like that.” He cast a questioning glance at Cas for verification. “Right?”

                Cas nodded. “I would expect so. For you, it is more natural to experience them physically, so you subconsciously tug on them when they are hidden. It disturbs the feathers.” His head was tilted speculatively. “For most angels, the reverse is true: when our wings are manifested we subconsciously try to push them back onto our native plane of existence.”

                Dean had started to nod off during the sudden lecture on angel grooming, but he snapped back to awareness as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Hey Cas, if Sam has these-“ He cut off to gesture vaguely at his brother’s new appendages- “wings, that means you’ve got a physical manifestation of yours, too, right?”

                Cas nodded, slowly. “Yes.”

                “Are they as colourful as Sam’s?” Dean had actually been wondering about this for the past few days, and had only been driven to ask now by his exhaustion-addled mind. Sam kept his wings out as much as he possibly could, but Sam was an exception and Dean didn’t want to accidentally offend Cas – not now that he was finally ready to start repairing things between them.

                Thankfully, Cas didn’t look offended. “No, my wings are much less vibrant than Sam’s are. Most angels have wings in only one colour, perhaps with multiple shades. Your brother is an exception, perhaps because of his origin as a human, with all the variance humanity afforded him.”

                Sam looked mildly embarrassed by this lengthy discussion of himself, and Dean had just decided to change the topic before he got cuffed again when Cas did it for him.

                Cas had shifted slightly, so when he manifested his wings they managed to take up most of the room without hitting into either Dean or Sam (Dean made a note to tease Sam about his apparent lack of coordination at the next possible opportunity). Dean drew in a sharp breath when he saw the wings – they were black, but just calling them that would be an injustice. They were a shifting pattern of matte and shining feathers, played out on the expanse of wing; like stars reflected in an ocean’s waves at night. Where Sam’s wings were colourfully vibrant and intricate and slightly changeable (Dean noticed that the tones shifted sometimes as Sam’s moods did, brightening or darkening accordingly), Cas’ managed to be both awe-inspiringly powerful and almost thoughtfully uncertain at the same time. Dean was surprised at how well the seemingly simple shades of black could convey a personality as complex as Cas’.

                Just like when he’d first seen Sam’s wings, Dean thought his reaction should fit the intricacy and beauty of the things, but what actually came out of his mouth was, “Wow Cas, those are _cool._ ”

                Castiel nodded, his face half-smile, half-grimace as he quickly twisted his shoulders slightly and hid his wings in a soft puff of air. His face relaxed considerably one they were gone, and Dean could again see Sam, who had previously been hidden behind Cas’ wings. Sam was grinning at him, and Dean thought there was a good chance that his brother had been misusing his new angel powers to watch his face throughout the experience.

                He opened his mouth to comment on it, but what came out was a yawn. Sam widened his grin and got up to turn off the light. “Sleep, Dean,” he said. “You can ogle our wings some more tomorrow.”

                Dean’s last thought before he fell asleep was that Sam’s English really was improving if he could remember the word ‘ogle’, and where had he even read that anyway? Who even still _used_ that word?

                He still hadn’t thought of a reasonable answer by the time he drifted off into the darkness.

*******

                After watching to make sure that Dean was well and truly asleep, Sam sighed and turned to Cas. He’d been fidgeting for the majority of the evening, and he continued to periodically adjust his wings in the hopes of finding a more comfortable way to hold them. **“I think I need to preen them again.”**

                He enjoyed the feel of the Enochian on his tongue as he conversed with Cas, despite the significant improvements in his English over the past few days. Castiel, however, was shifting uncomfortably in a manner that Sam recognized all too well. **“Are you okay?”**

                Cas tried to nod, but it turned into a shrug. **“Yes, I am well.”** When Sam just stared at him with a raised eyebrow, he spoke again. **“I believe my wings may need preening also,”** he conceded. **“Manifesting them earlier did not help matters.”**

                **“Can I help?”** Sam asked, before his overthinking reflexes kicked in. **“I mean, if it’s not too personal or against tradition or anything.”** Cas had helped him preen the first time, but he hadn’t known how, so he couldn’t really be sure if it was something angels typically did or not.

                Cas smiled, reaching out to Sam with his grace to let him see that he was not offended. Actually, what Sam sensed was something similar to amusement. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Cas manifested his wings. **“Is something** funny?” (He had noticed long ago that the Enochian language was sorely lacking in proper descriptions of humour. He thought that said something about the mental state of most angels).

                Cas spread out his wing so that Sam could tend to it, and cautiously reached out to Sam’s wing in an unspoken offer of returned favours. **“It is just strange,”** he said, **“That you know so much about Enochian and you learn your abilities so quickly, that I sometimes forget how little you have experienced of our culture.”** That wry little smile was back on his face again. **“I never thought I would come to think of you as my own kind so readily”**

                Sam supposed that could have been taken offensively, but he knew Cas better than that. Instead, he shrugged, and began to comb through the sleek black feathers with his fingers. Cas did the same on his wing, and he arched his back a little at the touch. **“In the Cage, Michael and Lucifer found it easier to talk of language than culture. They both knew Enochian, but Lucifer had been gone for much time, and Michael had been secluded and …** sulking.” He thought back to those times and discussions, to Lucifer rambling on like a professor about the superiority of Enochian to any human language, and Michael wanting to argue with him, but secretly feeling just as smug about his own kind. They had a way of discussing things which made a seemingly simple lesson take much longer – Sam supposed that was probably a good thing, given the amount of time they’d had to spend. He sighed. **“I think that in a way, things were actually peaceful down there.”**

                **“Do you miss it?”** Cas asked, as he gently tugged a feather back into place.

                Sam thought about it. His first reaction was _no, of course not._ It was the _Cage_ , with Michael and _Lucifer_ for company. It wasn’t something people were supposed to miss. But this was Castiel, and he felt compelled to answer honestly.

                **“Sometimes. It was a lot of time down there with them.”** He sighed. **“I am very glad to be out, to see you and Dean and Bobby and everything else, but…”** He trailed off, not sure how to continue.

                Cas filled in the blank for him. **“But it was a long time, and they were not unkind to you.”**

                “Yeah,” Sam said, and his face twisted into a wry smile. **“After everything, who would have thought?”**

                Cas brushed a hand over Sam’s left wing, pausing thoughtfully. **“I never really knew Michael and Lucifer. They were higher in rank and kept to themselves, and Lucifer left so early.”** His fingers worked their way through Sam’s feathers for a moment in silence before he asked, **“Would you mind telling me of them?”**

                So Sam did. He recounted the way Michael and Lucifer fought with each other, arguing over the little details and the larger picture, but he also remembered the moments when they would laugh and smile and he could almost see what could have been between them, if things were different. He recounted stories they’d told him, even if he didn’t know how true they were. It was nice to talk about it – he tried to avoid the topic around Dean, not sure how his brother would react to any nonhostile memories of the pair of archangels. With Cas it was different: even when they’d been enemies, they were still his family, and he seemed fascinated with the memories Sam could share with him.

                Sam didn’t think he would ever actually _miss_ the Cage, but there were times when he would forget, for a moment, that he was out. He’d think of something and decide to tell Lucifer, before remembering that they were down there, and he wasn’t. But he had Dean now, and Cas, and that was more than enough.

                Still, he hoped Michael and Lucifer weren’t arguing _too_ badly down there without him to play peacekeeper. He wondered what his life was now, that he had spared even a distant thought for the emotional well-being of the Devil.

                He smiled, and refocused his attention on the soft, mostly-groomed feathers of Castiel’s wings. However wacked-out his life had become, he thought he liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and other feedback is welcome!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
